


Here, at the Edge

by AshToSilver



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:14:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshToSilver/pseuds/AshToSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bat and the clown cross paths before it all begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here, at the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> I asked tumblr if people wanted to see some scenes or beginnings to fics I never got around to finishing - this is one of them. It will probably never go beyond this, but I hope you enjoy (and I will be posting more soon).
> 
>  **EDIT Aug/2016:** I have changed my username, I am now going by AshToSilver on AO3 and [my new Tumblr](http://ashtosilver.tumblr.com/)! You can still call me Alex, but I no longer have a day of the week in my name.

The first time the Batman ever lays eyes on the Joker, he doesn’t know it.

It’s early in his crusade, when the cops are on his tail and Alfred still gives him those condensing looks whenever he leaves. His toys don’t always work and he makes mistakes, but for the first time in his life he feels _right_.

And it should be said that if Bruce’s hearing wasn’t as good as it is, if he wasn’t as focus as he is, then the Joker would have been dead before he ever donned his royal purple jacket.

He’s flying by, sliding through the shadows like they’re family, embracing him in darkness and making him feel safe, when a snippet of conversation floats to him, only a fragment.

"-we should check to see if he’s dead yet-“

And the Batman grounds to a halt, crawls forward and watches two men unlock a small, non-descriptive door to some building’s basement. Bruce slides down, until he’s close enough to hear the conversation.

“Holy shit.” Says the first man. “Two days without water and you’re still going, huh?” And that’s all Bruce needs to hear.

He enters, attacks swiftly, painfully and then turns to the victim.

A man had been tied to a chair, most likely at the back of the room, though at some point, he’d knocked it over, and dragged himself half-way across the floor. He’s skinny and still, but alive. His pulse flutters madly under Bruce’s fingers, and he’s unnaturally limp when his bonds are cut.

He’s not the first dehydration victim Bruce’s dealt with, so he gives him shots of fluids from his kits, and gently drips him water, until the stranger’s strong enough to focus.

“I’m going to call the hospital.” He tells the man, and the victim panics, shake his head weakly and moaning at the pain it brings.

“No.” And his voice is cracked, low and so strained. “Please.”

“You need medical attention.” He tries to tell the man, but he keeps shaking his head. When Bruce tries to pick him up, he flails and falls out of his reach with a whimper of pain.

The man grips his wrist surprisingly strong. “Please.” There’s a pause, and Bruce gives him more water. The man splutters an address and falls silent, looking haunted and miserable, until Bruce moves to check the man’s capturers and then he tilts his head.

“Bat.” He croaks. There’s a delirious look to his eyes, like he’s seeing a lot more then just a bat.

Every instinct is telling Bruce to take the man to the hospital, but at the same time, something is telling him _no_. The man’s sat up on his own, is drinking on his own, isn’t shaking and doesn’t look like he’s about to die, all things considering. He’s even moving his legs without prompting, getting the blood flowing after so long sitting down.

So he agrees, and takes the man to the address, calling in the men left behind in the basement as he goes. The man seems confused for most of the flight, but goes content once Bruce smuggles him into his own apartment.

It’s small, a bit disorganized and not very full, but its clean and stocked with food and water. The man sighs happily at seeing his things.

Bruce still wants to give him medical attention, but the man waves it off. He props himself up against the kitchen sink, pulls cans of soup out to microwave and drinks from the tap. Bruce only stays long to ensure he doesn’t die, and then turns to leave.

“Bat.” The man says, and it sounds a little sad. Then Bruce is out the window and gone.

The Batman thinks he’ll remember the man, but he doesn’t. Every week he deals with hundreds of cases - and not just robberies and attempted murders. There are tons like the man’s case - rape victims, neglected children, assaulted spouses and those too poor to feed themselves, to get medical attention or have a roof over their heads. Relatives and friends of the dead, the injured, the forgotten. For every person that lets him help, three more will tell him no.

The Joker doesn’t remember this either. Several months after he almost dies for reasons Bruce never knows, the Joker takes a swim in a vat full of acid. He’ll lose everything.

But neither of that is entirely true. Because Bruce will look upon the Joker’s face, and know that somewhere, he has met this man before.

And the Joker?

The first word he’s ever going to say to Bruce as the Joker is going to be “ _bat_ ”.

And he’ll say it with a delirious look in his eyes.


End file.
